dinsdag 13 mei 2014

Powerful people wanted Marley dead. They tried to assassinate him and failed. Later he got cancer. Eventually he died. In the end, Bob Marley was dead just the same as if he was assassinated. In the end, no one was accountable for his death. It was a WIN WIN for the powerful. Lucky for them he got cancer and died.

That is the "beauty" of a death by "natural" causes: it's nobody's fault. It is cruel fate, the vagaries of the human body, the mysterious genome.....

It Was God's Will.
It Was Meant To Happen.
Everything Happens For A Reason.
Regrettable.

The American Cancer Society, just one of many organizations dedicated to cancer, is a billion dollar a year boondoggle that's been in place for almost 100 years. No luck with the cure yet. Perhaps you should buy something pink, as part of the research and AWARENESS campaign for breast cancer.

Who can say how many billions of dollars are poured into the cancer industry, each year, year after year; and hardly anyone raises an eyebrow and finds it odd that the brilliant scientists can't ever seem to find a cure, as our environment and food supply are continually degraded with pollutants, also coming from the laboratories.

To our mind, it is absolutely plausible and extremely likely that cancer can be artificially induced on a specific target. Is that not how cancer *always* develops? Something causes it. YOUR genes. YOUR diet. YOUR failure to exercise. YOUR failure to quit smoking those horribly addictive wads. Certainly we must realize that the causes, the mechanism of how various pollutants cause cancer, has been studied and understood with some of the billions and billions of research monies devoted to cancer over the past hundred years? Good luck doing everything right and avoiding the invisible cancer-causing particles coating everything you touch and breathe. Sorry about those invisible particles. Unfortunately, that is nobody's fault.

From there it is a tiny leap of the imagination to think that if powerful people wanted someone dead, and they wanted the death to be completely deniable, that they could GIVE the person cancer, very specifically, and then assure that treatments would FAIL to cure the person of cancer. Eventually the person would die, a slow death full of suffering.

In fact that is EXACTLY how Bob Marley died. The only thing you have to entertain is whether you think it is possible, whether the technological understanding exists, whether the malice exists, to GIVE someone cancer. And whether you think it was possible to do those things in the 1970s.

Lew Lee, a documentary filmmaker said; "People came by his house. There were always people going in and out.Someone gave Bob a pair of boots. He put his foot in and said "Ow!" A friend got in there - you know how Jamaicans are. He said, "let's get in here" - in the boot, and he pulled a piece of copper wire out. It was embedded in the boot." The assumption is it was radioactive because Marley later broke his toe playing soccer in London and when the bone wouldn't mend, the doctors found that the toe had cancer.

Surviving an attempt on his life by a well-armed death squad at his Hope Road home in Jamaica, Bob was later given a 'gift' of a new pair of boots by Carl Colby, son of the late CIA director William Colby. When the unsuspecting Marley put them on, something pricked his foot. He then reached into one of the boots and pulled out a piece of copper wire. Many of his closest friends suspected that the wire contained some carcinogenic substance, since Marley contracted cancer shortly thereafter.

There has since been widespread belief that the CIA arranged the hit on Hope Road. Neville Garrick, a Marley insider and former art director of the Jamaican Daily News, had film of “suspicious characters” lurking near the house before the assassination attempt. The day of the shooting he had snapped some photos of Marley standing beside a Volkswagen in a pool of mango-tree shade. The strangers in the background made Marley nervous; he told Garrick that they appeared to be “scouting” the property. In the prints, however, their features were too blurred by shadow to make out. After the concert, Garrick took the photographs and prints to Nassau. Sadly, while the Wailers and crew prepared to board a flight to London, he discovered that the film had been stolen.

Many of the CIA’s files on Bob Marley remain classified to the present day. However, on December 5, 1976, a week after the assault on Hope Road, the Wailers appeared at the Smile Jamaica fest, despite their wounds, to perform one long, defiant anthem of rage directed at the CIA – “War” – suggesting the Wailers’ own attitude toward the “Vampires” from Langley....Only a handful of Marley’s most trusted comrades knew of the band’s whereabouts before the festival. Yet a member of the film crew, or so he claimed – reportedly, he didn’t have a camera – managed to talk his way past machete-bearing Rastas to enter the Hope Road encampment: one Carl Colby, son of the late CIA director William Colby. ...While the band prepared for the concert, a gift was delivered, according to a witness at the enclave – a pair of boots for Bob Marley.

Quick recap: One week after nearly being assassinated in a hail of bullets, during a full-blown CIA orchestrated destabilization campaign against Jamaica that Marley recognized and opposed with his music, the son of the CIA director manages to talk his way past armed guards, to get into the secret location of Marley's band, and gave Marley a pair of boots that stabbed his toe with an embedded copper wire.

Coincidentally, that same toe later became the source of malignant cancer that spread throughout his body, killing him.

In his revealing book, “Marley And Me”, former Wailers manager Don Taylor notes that an unknown doctor came and gave Bob a still unknown injection in his toe right after the ball game was interrupted. Malignant cancer, originating in the same toe, was diagnosed some time after.

"Some time after" being three years later. The toe would not heal. Two months later Marley was limping and the toe had become so infected that a doctor recommended amputation. He had a skin graft performed instead. For three years he immersed himself in music, refusing medical attention while his health deteriorated. In September 1980 he suffered a stroke while out on a run in New York's Central Park, which forced him into medical care. His cancer diagnosis followed, which by this time had metastasized to his liver, brain and lungs. He quickly cycled through a few standard treatments before being referred to a doctor in Bavaria.

Marley's manager, Don Taylor (a man who made questionable decisions with Marley's money) wrote in his book Marley and Me that a "senior CIA agent" had been planted amoung the crew, assassination was the objective.

When Marley was diagnosed with cancer, he returned to Jamaica where he was referred to Dr. Carl "Pee Wee" Fraser. Fraser advised Marley to seek treatment from a Dr. Josef Issels in Bavaria.

Dr. Issels proceeded to torture Bob Marley, who was by this time loaded with cancer.

They cut Bob's dreadlocks off and he was getting all of this crazy, crazy (experimental) medical treatment in Switzerland. I know this because of Ray Von Evans, who played in Marley's group, we were very close friends. As Bob was receiving these medical treatments, Ray would come by every two or three months and told me, "Yeah, mon, they're killing Bob. They are KILLING Bob." I said, "What do you mean they are killing Bob?" "No, no, mon," he said. "Dis Dr. Issels, he's a Nazi!"

During Bob's stay at Dr. Joseph Issels clinic in Bad Wiesse,he was subjected to blood transfusions, hyperthermia and illegal injections of THX. He was put on a restricted diet until he weighed only five stones, his friends who found his weight loss alarming, felt the treatment was "breaking down Bob's physical structure."

But a very 'telling' conversation took place when Dr. Issels told Bob a story about a German friend who had advised Issels not to treat him, saying that Marley was the most dangerous black man on the planet. A strange (Nazi) acquaintance for an eminent doctor? Not really, Joseph Issels was an officer in the SS, a colleague of Joseph Mengele and had served a jail term for manslaughter. Mengele survived the war and enjoyed the protection and employment of the CIA.

Bob himself sometimes felt the injections he was given were poison, and in bad moments thought they were trying to kill him. When Bob was too ill to continue treatment and Issels sent him home to die, he kissed his teeth bitterly and said softly, "Dr. Issels is a madman." Robert Nesta Marley, the King of Reggae, had been at the pinnacle of his career and was in danger of inciting peace and unity when he died of cancer in a Miami hospital on Monday May 11, 1981.

Cedella Booker-Marley, his mother, visited him three times in the course of the “treatments.” She found Dr. Issels to be an “arrogant wretch” with the “gruff manners of a bully,” who subjected her dying son to a bloodless brand of “hocus-pocus” medicine. Booker-Marley: “I myself witnessed Issels’ rough treatment of Nesta [Marley]. One time I went with Nesta to the clinic, and we settled down in a treatment room. Issels came in and announced to Nesta, ‘I’m going to give you a needle.’” Dr. Issels “plunged the needle straight into Nesta’s navel right down to the syringe. [Marley] grunted and winced. He could only lie there helplessly, writhing on the table, trying his best to hide his pain. ‘Jesus Christ,’ I heard myself mumbling.” Issels yanked out the needle and strolled casually out of the room. Marley was left groaning with pain. “I went and stood at his side and held is hand.

“With every visit,” she recalls, “I found him smaller, frailer, thinner. As the months of dying dragged on, the suffering was etched all over his face. He would fall into fits of shaking, when he would lose all control and shiver from head to toe like a coconut leaf in the breeze. His eyes would turn in his head, rolling in their sockets until even the white jelly was quivering.”

Marley’s torment was aggravated by starvation. “For a whole week sometimes,” Booker laments, her son “would be allowed no nourishment other than what he got intravenously. Constantly hungry, even starving, he wasted away to a skeleton” – starved to death like an Auschwitz inmate. “To watch my first-born shrivel up to skin and bone ripped at my mother’s heart.” Marley weighed 82 pounds on the day of his death. The starvation diet must have devastated his immune system and rushed his demise, not prolonged his life as Dr. Issels and some biographers have contended. It also caused him intense pain. “It would drag on so, for one long painful month after the other, and every day would be a knife that death stabbed and twisted anew in an already open, bleeding wound.” The agony “wrapped him up like a crushing snake.”

"Here are some of the last known photo's of BobMarley a few months before his death while in Munich, Germany with Dr. Josef Issels who was treating him for cancer…"

After all, everyone knows that cancer is a fatal disease, and Bob had it and died from it and that’s a great pity… but murdered? How ridiculous!

But since Fukushima, we have had an education about radiation. We learned that there are different kinds of radiation, and in some cases, a single particle of radiation can become embedded in the body, say in the lungs, and from there bombard the body continuously with deadly radioactivity, causing tissue to destruct at the cellular level, aka: cancer.

This is the mechanism by which a single, invisible, radioactive particle of plutonium can cause cancer.

Imagine if the copper wire on the boots had been tipped with a bit of plutonium, for instance. Imagine that the plutonium ended up in Marley's toe, through the tiny puncture wound. The toe would now be infused with a non-stop radioactive particle. Eventually the toe would become cancerous. Eventually the cancer would metastasize. And that is what happened to Marley. His toe had cancer, which he found out *after* breaking the toe in soccer. The cancer spread. He was given ineffective treatments. He died.

That is but one possibility that we can think of off the top of our head. We expect that the CIA has many options at its disposal for inducing cancer, along with heart attacks, multiple personality disorder, etc. We expect the CIA already had many of these methods since post WWII, since Operation Paperclip.

Bottom line is this: People wanted him dead. Then, conveniently, he died. Point A to Point B, with a long layover at Suffering City. You can believe it was all a remarkable coincidence, and bad luck, an Act of God, Mother Nature, etc.....

the usual suspects.....

...because it took a little extra time to get to Point B. The time between a poisoning and a death has long been very useful for avoiding responsibility. See asbestos, for instance. See radiation. See cigarettes.

It Was God's Will.It Was Meant To Happen.
Everything Happens For A Reason.